


Year Five

by Ylevihs



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Anniversary, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, and love poetry, completely self indulgent, like rose petals, nb sidestep - Freeform, no really when i say completely self indulgent, that's not how psychic powers work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 05:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19078189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylevihs/pseuds/Ylevihs
Summary: Logan and Richard celebrate their 5th wedding anniversary





	Year Five

**Author's Note:**

> God please don't look at me, I'm humiliatingly soft for these two

Everything had to be perfect. Or. At least as near to perfect as he could make it. 

The date had gone well. Better than well. It had been perfect. A quiet voice pointed out that the row boat had been a little leaky and that he’d spent the walk home trying to secretly pull splinters out of his hands from the oars, but it was gently shushed. It had been everything he’d dared to hope for. 

The weather was slightly cloudy, the sun hadn’t been trying to kill anyone. The hustle and bustle of the city had faded somewhat and had been replaced by the much more reserved mutter and flutter of the park. And Logan had looked. Well, they’d looked how they always did. Gorgeous. They’d started doing this thing with their hair where they brushed it a little to the side and. Anyway. Logan had reclined back in the row boat, letting him take the splintery oars and guide them both to drift somewhere in the middle of the man-made pond, streaming a thin trail of cigarette smoke into the breeze. 

They’d brought their guitar and it sat, something like a promise, balanced between their knees. Richard’s own knapsack held their lunch and his journal, more like a little threat than anything else. When the boat had reached a far enough distance out, Richard pulled in the oars and let them drift for a moment, enjoying the rare chance to experience something like nature in a city like Los Diablos. Ducks had paddled by, quacking to themselves gently. Every few minutes a fish would gurgle near the surface where dragonflies were skimming their wings. A few bees, fat and lazy, bumbled through the air. 

Practically bucolic. The scene out of some sun-dizzy oil painters catalog, ready to be put up in the nearest hotel hallway to add a little something cozy to drabness.  
Logan’s lips twitched, hand reaching over the edge of the boat to dangle their fingertips against the surface of the pond. They tilted their head back, eyes slipping closed, sighing gently and Richard felt no small part of him fall in love all over again. He only caught the briefest of glances when he shifted, rummaging as quietly as he could in his bag to pull out his journal. The blush that came with it lingered, high on their cheek bones and light enough to be dismissed as being sun kissed. 

“Would you mind if I…,” he prompted, feeling a warm shiver in his chest with their low and gravely:

“Go ahead,” 

Richard thumbed open the well-worn pages to find an old favorite, a poem he had written not long after they met. If an audience member squinted they could almost make out the figure of Animus being praised, if they knew where to look. Otherwise it was a simple sonnet, a dedication to something beyond the writer’s scope of being. 

The next was more recent, from a few weeks ago, and flavored with more than a few references to when Logan had. Ah. Taken their time with him. Enough to first make the blush rise high on their cheeks and then make their lips twist to fought-back smile, puffing out a little air. It had been both ridiculously easy and frustrating to turn an act like being pinned down and taken apart into something poetic and romantic. His skin still wanted to tingle with the ghosts of Logan’s kisses from that night. 

The third. The last one for the afternoon, he promised himself, because it would be hard to keep going, was his favorite. He suspected it was Logan’s too, never needing to confirm the theory. Whenever he started their attention would snap to him like a magnet, eyes soft and. Their head dropped forward to watch him as though he were the only thing that they could see. The poem he’d written in lieu of wedding vows had been relatively brief, but it still made his hands shake to read. He could feel his heart tightening in his chest. Acutely aware that it wasn’t good enough, that it didn’t come remotely close to capturing what he felt—that desperate high that made him dizzy and giddy and blind and ache in every part of his mind. Like a drop of adrenaline and anxiety and joy and something that no language he spoke could come close to capturing. As he drew towards the end, doing everything he could to keep his voice from shaking, he felt a press. The gentle nudge of Logan’s shoe against his ankle in time with thin wisps of smoke bleeding into his head. He nudged back, tightness gone, replaced only with that glorious nameless warmth. 

“I love you,” quiet and, ah, beans, hopefully his voice hadn’t been shaking when he’d been reading. Logan’s eyebrows lifted, lips moving as though they had to taste the words before they could say them, gaze still soft and wavering.

“Love you, too, Richie,” they held his gaze, neither quite willing to look away too early. Richard was almost overcome by the urge to pour everything out, right then and there. Stream every last ounce of love and adoration he’d ever felt for them, down to the very last dew drop, right into their mind. He resisted. But only barely. It felt like his blood was on fire with it. Like he would go mad with it. 

But he could save it for later.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” for what was probably the eighth time that afternoon. It certainly wasn’t going to be the last. Their foot tapped his ankle again. 

Logan was still smiling at him as they made their way back to the edge of the pond. Fond. As much. Oh, it felt like profanity even to think it, even though he knew it was true. As much in love with him as he was with them. As warm and shivery in their fingers when they held out their hand, steadying him and helping him get out of the rowboat and back on solid ground. 

They wandered the park for a little bit, listening to children playing and dogs barking and somewhere nearby but far enough away, the traffic of the city.  
“Here seems good,” Logan said, squeezing his hand softly. Richard obediently opened his bag to pull out a thin blue and white blanket, spreading it over the prickly half dead grass at the base of the tree Logan had pointed out. They sat side by side, leaning up against the roots of the tree, talking quietly about nothing in particular, eating their lunch in relative peace. People watching and making up stories about the lives of the joggers and dog walkers. Twig’s half muttered snide comments made his heart glow.

After a moment of comfortable silence Logan picked up their guitar and flicked their gaze up; Richard caught it and felt his breath stutter in his chest. They looked just on the edge of nervous, stretching their fingers and licking their lips, guitar balanced easily in their lap. He tried not to look too excited, fairly certain his face had settled on love struck fool. Which was fair. Accurate. 

Sunlight was streaming through the leaves of the tree, spreading dappled shadows over them as they began to play. The music was slow and soft, not wanting the attention of anyone else besides him. It took everything in him to keep his eyes from watering. It was low and rhythmic and oh. It was them. It sounded as close as living music could come to the melody of their mind and it made something deep in his heart clench. He didn’t bother hiding the soft sigh it brought up from his lung when they started singing. Hesitant at first, low and nicotine scratchy like blues singers and. It settled right between his lungs and expanded. Oh, it was beautiful. More than; beautiful didn’t come close. It felt like he was falling, drifting and safe and his heart leapt to his throat when they looked back up at him. 

He felt its beat match the motion of their strumming and smiled, eyes almost wet. Feeling full and swelling in his chest. Logan gave him back a similar look, finger pads plucking out the end of the song and voice drifting into semi-embarrassed silence. They looked down at the blanket between them and Richard rocked his weight up onto his knees, shimmying the few inches forward to reach out and cradle their jaw in his palm. A press of their cheek against his hand and then they repeated the gesture, fingers cool and calloused on his jawline. He pressed a quick kiss to their palm and darted forward, leaving a second on their lips. 

They kissed him back and Richard tried not to tremble. 

The perfect afternoon. 

Now he needed to make sure it was the perfect night. 

That coordination had been much more difficult. The girls were safe and happy with Chen and Spoon for the evening, Richard had thrown in a new chew toy for the greyhound to sweeten the pot when he originally asked. It helped that Spoon and the girls adored each other. He’d been able to convince Logan to meet him at the restaurant for dinner—the small bistro they went to every anniversary—with the explanation that he needed to pick up their gift still. It was mostly true. The new motorcycle he’d chosen to steal for them was waiting in his warehouse, gleaming and pristine and ready to be ridden up to dinner as a surprise. 

But he also needed them out of the apartment to give him a few moments to set everything up. He set up the candles carefully, ready to be lit when they came home. Rose petals were laid out to make a pathway to the bedroom, ending on their bed. He made them into the outline of a heart. Corny enough to make Logan chuckle. Corny enough to make them smile and look at him with those eyes and. 

He tried to make sure he looked good. Difficult, considering his own opinion on the subject, but he tried. The suit looked good, deep blue and understated. He debated the paisley tie for the better part of ten minutes before the worry of being late forced him into it. Logan’s own richly patterned black suit was missing, which made his heart flutter and something less romantic flutter in his lower stomach. An attempt was made with his hair. He tried. Gave up. It wasn’t a total disaster, at least. 

Half an hour left. He made it to his base, made sure the bow in his pocket was ready to be slapped onto the front of the motorcycle when he pulled up, and peeled out, speeding off to dinner. Logan was already at their table when he arrived, facing the door and picking at the basket of bread. They gave him a small smile when he walked in the door. 

The restaurant kept the lights low, allowing fake candles to throw most of the light from the table tops. It made Logan’s eyes glitter dangerously, shadows darting around their form. They were indeed wearing the black suit, make up sharp and crisp. Intense in all the best ways. They looked like a better form of deity; one Richard would never hesitate to worship. 

“Am I late?” he knew he wasn’t. Hoped he wasn’t. Oh, goodness, had it really taken—?

“Took you long enough,” but it was teasing. They nodded him in closer to give him a quick peck on the lips before he sat down, taking his hand and winding their fingers together on the tabletop. “Get held up with something?” soft notes of playful of suspicion in their voice. He caught the dispersing vapor of a thought, wondering if ‘work’ had come up. Richard shook his head. 

“Traffic. Your present’s waiting outside,” which earned him a lightly raised eyebrow and the response:

“Here’s yours,” Logan slid something across the tablecloth; a thin envelope of high quality paper. Richard took it and after a sly glance at his spouse thumbed it open to peek inside. A handwritten line of. Oh. Oh. Access codes. To the only place he would ever need them to. Richard’s blood went cold. A list of them, at least fifteen long. It must have either cost a fortune or been a bitch and a half to obtain. He resealed the envelope in the least suspicious way he knew how. 

“ _Twig_ ,” he squeezed their hand for a moment before bringing it up to kiss their knuckles. 

“Happy anniversary,” their thumb swiped over his skin and welcome chills ran up and down his arm with it. Their eyes hardened suddenly, the set of their mouth serious and firm. “Be careful,”

“I promise,” he tried to pulse out his sincerity. He meant it. He would be. 

The shape of a waiter drifted into his periphery and with another press of their fingers together, they went on with dinner, speaking quietly for the rest of the meal. They traded long looks and shallow sighs and danced their feet around each other’s legs like teenagers stepping out unchaperoned for the first time. 

 

Logan’s grin was infectious and Richard beamed alongside them. The metal shell of the bike gleamed beneath the city lights, sharp black and gun metal grey. The red bow Richard had tried to stick to the right handle bar had slid limply around to dangle, which didn’t seem to faze Logan in the least. 

“Oh, _honey_ ,” Logan’s fingers ran over the sleek lines, the rich leather, the cool metal. Richard took the liberty of sliding his hands lightly over their hips. In his left he released the keys to the new bike into their pocket. With his right, he very unsubtly pickpocketed the keys to their usual ride. He meant to slide away quickly but was stopped in his tracks by Logan rocking their hips back against him. “Race you home,”

 

Logan was waiting for him when he finally rolled up, a slender dark shape in the warm night air, illuminated gold from the streetlights above and red from the glow of their cigarette. Smoke curled around their head in a halo. 

“Are you going to make a habit of being late?”

Richard shook his head, peeling off the helmet and hoping beyond hope he didn’t look too foolish. It wasn’t often he actually drove a bike on his own; the trip home counted as only the third time he’d driven himself in two months. He preferred riding behind Twig in any case. “Nope. No plans like that, not at the moment,” he fumbled slightly with the kickstand, taking a little longer than strictly necessary to make sure it was holding the weight. Logan chuckled behind him. 

“ ‘Not at the moment’, huh? Can’t even do that on time,” Richard’s mind scrambled and something managed to put forth a fair reply.

“You never have to wait on me, Twig,” gentle and. Hm. Not the fairest reply, then. Logan rolled their eyes and flicked their cigarette down, grinding it out against the asphalt of the parking. Their lips curled at the edges though. That same fondness from earlier that made his heart skip. 

“Get inside, idiot,” they made a half turn before his brain kicked at this knees to _go light the candles, stupid._

“Oh, wait! Wait, just,” Richard jolted forward, catching their cheek with a quick, chaste kiss as he brushed by. It was hard, but he managed not to giggle at their surprised expression. “Just one minute, there’s a surprise for you I need to set up,”

“Okay?” Logan’s smile was clearer now. “Take your time, I guess, you know where to find me,”

 

Richard ran down the mental checklist quietly, in case Logan had their feelers out.  
Lights off? Check.  
Candles lit? Check.  
Rose petals spread out like a hopeless romantic? Check.  
Bed ready? Sheets washed, pillows fluffed? Check.  
Self-confidence enough for their actual surprise? Ah, beans, he was going to find out. 

 

Logan was halfway through their second cigarette by the time Richard made his way back outside. They’d gone back to inspecting their new motorcycle, the edges of their thoughts already planning on how to make some of their own personal upgrades. Richard cleared his throat a little, trying to skirt the wave of anxiety building. He didn’t need to worry. He did not need t—it was Twig. It was Logan and because it was Logan it meant that he didn’t need to. To.

“All ready?” they glanced at him out of the corner of their eye. Something scrambled up Richard’s carotid artery from his heart and settled next to his throat. Five years. Five years and he still felt as though he was only one step away from ruining it all. 

“Yeah,” suddenly aware that his face must have gone blank. He held out his hand anyway for them to take. And when they slide their palm against his, Richard felt the brush of warmth all the way to his toes. It sped back to his face, stopping to bloom in his stomach, when Logan stepped in close and kissed him, heavy and slow. Their tongue tasted like tobacco and a little of alfredo sauce and mostly of home. Familiar. Safe. The twitchy little burst of doubt he’d felt was muscled into a dark alleyway and something that looked and smelled and sounded like Logan’s mind was waiting in the shadows for it, cracking its knuckles. 

“Let’s get inside then,” Logan’s lips tickled against his as they spoke, warm and wet. 

“Seriously?” he could hear the amusement in their voice even if their face didn’t show it. Logan dipped low and plucked up a few red petals and rubbed them between their fingers. The candles flickered, painting them again in the frame of something beautiful and powerful. Gilded edges and soft shadows. Richard couldn’t do anything to stop his grin. 

“Oh, you haven’t even seen the worst part, yet,” he tugged gently at their hand, prompting them to follow the flowered pathway into the bedroom a step behind him. Once in the bedroom he put on his best children’s-party-magician voice, sweeping his arm into a bow, “Et voilà,” and grinned harder as Logan’s face shifted through several options. First a deadpan stare, then a deep blush, a slight frown (from blushing), a half suppressed smile. A chuckle. 

“Really Richard? A rose petal heart?” but their face was still beet red, mouth fighting itself back from the silly grin. Richard squeezed their hand and guided them closer to the heart in question, laid out on their bed. 

“I love you,” he pressed in a soft kiss to their lips, free hand coming to tuck a cool strand of dark hair over their ear. Leaving it there to cradle their cheek. Their own hand found and pressed in against his waist. “I love you so much,” mimicking their earlier move of letting his lips tease against their own. “and I am going to spend all night showing you exactly how much,” he punctuated the end of the sentence with a shallow bite to their lower lip. A teasing nibble, just enough to draw out a little noise of interest from his spouse. 

They darted forward to deepen the kiss but Richard dodged his mouth down, trailing kisses and quick flicks of his tongue and the light press of his incisors down their neck.  
The suit jacket came away easily enough—his own was shed in tandem. He kept the pace of his hands as slow as he could, unbuttoning their shirt and lavishing them with kisses, each uncovered inch of skin something sacred to pay tribute to. Suckling gently at the column of their neck and licking a path down to their collarbones where he strayed, distracted by the need to bite tenderly at the protrusions. More tugging at his shirt. The tie. With a parting kiss to the hollow between their clavicles, Richard slid the shirt from their shoulders and down their arms, taking half a step back. 

He felt a nudge of reassurance. They liked how he looked. They wanted to. He could do this. He’d spent the last week building himself up for it privately and he could do this. Just take deep breaths and let his fingers unbutton his shirt and.

“Szeretlek,” the word fell soft on his ears. He didn’t really know what it meant, but he knew what it felt like when they blew it into his mind. It helped steady his hands enough to slide away his shirt, fingers hooking into the buckle of his belt. Their eyes were on him, they’d seen him thousands of times before but it was always different being watched, but it was okay. It was okay. All the scars and the tattoos and the awkward spread of it was okay. 

Feeling possibly the most absurd he ever had in his life, he swung his hips a little with the slide of the belt. He shifted them forward as he unzipped his slacks, material bunching with the slide of his fingers pushing the waist down over his hips. They liked looking at him. The ghost of a thought that wasn’t his own drifted into his head that said they loved how he looked, which was about as welcome as actual specter. He could handle it for the night, though. Richard had to look down to step out of his shoes and when his attention came back up, Logan’s hands had found his wrists. Their thumbs rubbed at the ragged scars on the insides of his forearms as they ran their touch up to his shoulders and then up further still. Burying their fingers through his hair and pulling him into a shallow kiss.

It lingered, giving Richard time to shift his mental focus back onto them. Enough time to trail his hands up their back and fiddle with unhooking their bra. They shrugged it away, untangling their fingers just long enough to get the straps off their arms. Logan bit at his tongue when he tried to break away, deepening the contact for a split second before letting him loose, dragging their nails back across his scalp and sending heavy shivers down his spine. 

Richard placed another kiss to their sternum before traveling down, dragging the flat of his tongue over their own marks until he reached their right nipple. He circled the tip of his tongue around the edges before wrapping his lips around it, suckling gently. His left hand dragged itself up the smooth planes of their abdomen, fingers coming to lightly tug and tease at their left. Logan’s hands pressed him closer in, wanting more heat and more sensation. After a moment longer of rolling the tight bud of flesh between his the flat of his teeth and his tongue, Richard moved his mouth away to their breast, sucking equally tenderly. 

He let his left hand roam their skin, aimless until it found the hem of their own trousers and sliding his fingers beneath to tease at them. Logan’s hands left his hair, helping him peel away the last of their clothing. Now without anything stopping it, Richard’s hand trailed the backs of his nails over their ribcage, down their hip, over the swell of their thigh and then around to cup at them, dipping closer and closer to. Sliding back around and letting just the faintest of touches feather over their inner thighs, the crease where their thigh met their body. Logan wasn’t quite ticklish, but their fingers twitched against his scalp and they sighed for him.

Richard moved his hand further, light enough to make them shift to try and get closer, to touch them where they needed him to. He curled his fingers in a come hither motion, ghosting at their outer folds. After a moment of stroking he pressed the heel of his palm up, grinding it against their mound in just the right way to have them buck at him.  
Finally he brought his mouth away from worrying at their nipple and painted a long streak of saliva down the centerline of their body. Licked at the swell and fall of their abs, flicked his tongue into their belly button and continued kissing his way down their pelvis, one hip bone to the other. The angle he needed forced Richard down onto his knees, supplicant. A position of worship. Logan reclined back giving him a steady look that made his mouth run dry. He felt it. Just on the edge of his mind—their own. Thrumming and smoky and full of. Of. Oh. He echoed it back, as loud as he dared for the moment, and watched their face fold, head falling back as he coaxed their right leg to hook over his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he pressed the words against the fragile skin of their inner thigh. Pressed them against the brick wall of Logan’s mind in a delicate graffiti. There was no tearing, no great collapse. The threat of the barrier remained, able to fling back up at any moment. But for the moment, for the quiet hour, smoke billowed freely around his presence and sunk deep into his own mind. Not so much fire as unrelenting warmth carried on their melody, melting down what little he bothered to keep frozen around them anymore.  
His lips slid wet heat down and then he ran the flat of his tongue from the swell of their lips up to their clit. Richard did his best not to sink his mind into the steady music and instead focused on the physical task at hand. Wetness gathered, hot and slick, against his mouth and the shallow, broad strokes he trailed on their skin. 

“Just like that, Richie,” Logan moaned softly; he vaguely registered one of their hands untangling from his hair and glanced up just in time to see them cup and fondle their chest. A brush of their music as it pitched up. He pressed forward harder against wet softness, brushing his nose against their clit and sliding his tongue between their folds to lap at them. Lines of parallel pressure ran from the edge of his hairline to the base of his skill as Twig petted, encouraging him and urging him for more. He licked deeper and longer until their hips rocked forward and he felt a distant mental shiver. 

With a parting kiss, Richard obliged, slipping his mouth up and sucking their clit in warm and firm against the flat of his tongue. Keeping the suction soft to start with, the hand not supporting their right thigh rubbed up and down their left leg, ending on their hip and swirling his thumb over the bone. He upped the pressure of his mouth in small increments, the tip of his tongue swiping at the small bundle of nerves. Once. Twice. And then in a rapid pace until Twig’s fingers twisted in his hair and he could feel the tension building in their muscles. He rocked his head slightly, the motion only adding to the pull of his lips. Somewhere above him Logan was moaning, soft words and curses and then tightness and then. They jerked, small sharp movements as they came against his mouth, relaxing against the bed behind them. 

Richard released their twitching clit with a parting kiss and changed the angle of his head, back to licking firm and slow. Lapping and sucking at their slick, loud and lewd. Were it not otherwise occupied he would have smiled—he could feel the conflict in their body. Logan’s hips stuttered, unable to decide if they should rut forward or try to jerk away. He wriggled his tongue to make them squirm and heard:

“Oh, fuck,” before they made the decision to spread their legs a little wider, leaning more of their weight against the bed behind them. “Please,”

Adjusting their leg on his shoulder, Richard slid his hand from their hip and brought it down beside his mouth, dipping his thumb in between their inner folds and spreading them open. Holding and giving him the perfect space to tease them with quick, hard licks. Alternating between shallow and deep. Light and firm. There was measure of relief, the smoke of their mind clearing, when he drew his mouth back. Logan’s voice, rough and achingly gorgeous, muttered his name. The reprieve was short. Richard slid his fingers in deep and pressed his open mouth back against their overstimulated clit.

He started slowly, fingers working with a simple thrusting motion, coaxing the muscles into relaxing back and stroking at their walls to make them sigh. After a few moments of breathing hot air against their clit, his tongue pressed against it again in a single steady press, movements miniscule as his chin was bumped by the motion of his hand. When their inner muscles began to flutter and clench against his fingers, Richard changed the position of his hand. Twisting it so that his palm faced outward towards his own body and curled his fingers deep inside of Logan’s trembling form. It took a. Stroke. Or two. Or three but by then he could feel the give of the spongier tissue and dragged his digits over their g-spot.

“Oh my god,” the leg hooked over his shoulder tightened, the heel of their foot pressing him in and their strong calf holding him close. Logan’s body reacted on pure animal instinct, curling inwards, arching up off the bed. The hand in his hair twisted hard enough to sting and send a shiver down his spine. The muscles under his mouth grew more and more rigid as he continued the assault, driving his fingers now hard and fast and making the suction of his mouth tight and the slide of his tongue quick and. Their whole body rocked and spasmed for him when they came again, squirting hot and slick down his forearm and crying out loud and desperate. This orgasm lasts longer, spilling over his fingers and coating his hand. 

Richard offered up the small mercy of moving his mouth away to kiss gently at the flushed and sweat damp skin around their mound, whispering tiny words.  
“You’re so perfect,” he stopped his fingers as well, letting them linger inside of Logan’s body, giving them something firm and real to clench on in the aftershocks rather than leaving them empty. “I love you so much,” gentle in them, waiting for the twitches and shudders in their core to die down. He waited. Then. Satisfied that they’d recovered enough for the moment, Richard slowly lifted their leg off of his shoulder and helped settle their foot back on the ground. His fingers slipped free and he brought them up to his mouth, sucking them clean and rising up off of his knees. 

It only took a few gentle nudges for Logan to slide into bed, rose petals scattering and getting crushed beneath their bodies, adding a light scent to the air of the room, heavy now with the smell of sex and smoke. Richard peppered closed mouth kisses up the length of their body, making his way up to their face. Smudged lipstick from earlier kisses and where they had been biting at their lip, thin streaks of black mascara over their cheeks from where their eyes had watered. 

It was a complicated maneuver. Almost a dangerous one, considering the swirl of chemicals and thoughts going on in Logan’s head. Richard pressed his forehead onto theirs and relaxed, melted away a little something, shifted a brick of two and poured adoration into their mind. They were open and vulnerable and the way Logan’s arms were suddenly hard around his body, holding him close and burying their face into the crook of his shoulder and. Oh. 

“I love you,” a trembling voice, as if he could be bothered to care. Everything he’d ever loved about them, would ever, could ever, love about them—he did his best to mainline into their veins. The act pulled at him, warm and tremulous and if creatures like them didn’t have souls, then what was it that ached so beautifully? Where else could the terrible, glorious need for them come from? He clawed through his own mind, finding every last scrap of devotion he could and offering it up to them. He loved them. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, he would not do to keep them safe. To see them happy. To make sure they knew they were more precious to him than anything he could ever know. 

“Richard,” thin and high and reedy against his skin. Wetness from. He pulled back enough to kiss at the tears on their cheeks, pulled back enough from their mind to let them have a moment. Back another measure more because he could feel his own tears threatening their way to the front of his train of thought. 

“I love you,” he repeated, as though they were the only words he could remember how to speak. 

“I love you, too,” choked and whisper thin. A long moment of shared breathing. Of feeling their heartbeat against his chest. Of adrenaline and endorphins returning to their baselines. Richard allowed himself to settle into their embrace and became immediately aware of Logan preparing to return fire. 

He managed a: “Darling,” and then they flooded him, overwhelming beyond words or cognitive thought. Raw. Blistering. Making it near impossible to breathe deeply from the weight of it. Crushing. Beautiful and terrifying and every space in between. He felt it in the marrow of his bones and the pockets of his lungs and in the small hollows of his joints. Tingling in his fingers and toes and dizzy, like he hadn’t had a clean breath of air in decades. They loved him. They loved him to madness and back. 

They weren’t entirely gone from his mind when Logan forced their mouth against his, hands pinning his head into the kiss as though he would have ever pulled away. He’d barely managed to resist crying before and now he had to break the lip lock if only to keep himself from sputtering against them. 

“I love you, Richard,” the hands shifted to cradle his face, two pools of warmth on his cheeks, their thumbs wiping away his tears. Beneath him the bed shifted as Logan moved and something electric jolted through his lower body.

Oh, hey, yeah that was right, he had a body. And his body was still sporting an erection. And Logan was rolling their hips up, rubbing him heavy and hot against their leg. “Do you want me to?” he barely managed. His brain couldn’t really keep up anymore and was starting to retreat, almost letting go of the steering well and turning control over to his body. Almost. Logan gave him a long look, watery and soft. 

“Fuck, yes, I want you,” 

Their legs parted and Richard’s hips slotted between their thighs, rocking against them with the change. He humped forward, once. Twice. The length of his cock rubbing against their wet core before angling back and slipping the head in. Perfect, sopping heat and Richard almost shook as he thrust in, hilting himself with the first stroke. Logan’s muscles fluttered and trembled around him as he started an easy pace, enamored with the way their face tightened and then released. Beneath him Logan’s soft sounds turned back into scratchy moans. The languid tempo lasted until he felt them shift, knees bending and wrapping their legs around his. 

Richard dropped his head down to rest on their collarbone and relinquished control, letting his hips begin thrusting fast and strong, chasing his own end. The emotional high was still wreaking havoc between his temples—there was no way he was going to last very long. One of Logan’s hands found his shoulder and gripped it hard. He felt the other drop between their bodies to rub at their clit until they bore down on him, still too overstimulated and thrumming. Cumming hard on his cock even as he continued to pump into them, crying out his name. The squeeze and the heat and the slickness of their orgasm proved to be too much, forcing Richard over the edge with only a few more frantic slides of his hips. Logan’s hand stayed clenched on his shoulder, finger digging in as he spilled hot and heavy, pelvis rocking weakly forward as though he could send himself deeper into their blissful heat. 

Richard stayed buried inside of them for as long as his own body would allow, both of them panting. Twitching gently. Catching their breaths from both the physical and mental act. Loose limbed and whispering loving words at each other. He slipped out of them with a muted, wet sound. Before he could move away, Logan rolled them both onto their sides, tangling their legs with his. They darted forward, kissing his forehead, the tip of his nose and finally planting a quick, gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you,”

“Thank _you,_ ” it was more than gratitude for the gift, or the sex, and they both knew it. Logan’s lips curled into a smile for him and Richard mirrored it. “Happy anniversary, darling,”

“Happy anniversary, honey,”

**Author's Note:**

> Logan (Twig) Gray is rockboci's sidestep, thank you, as always, for letting me sully them with my grimy gremlin hands


End file.
